


the last enemy destroyed

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deathfic, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Purgatory, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a young man, a boy really, with a eyes as blue as blue can be and a smile that outshone the rising moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the last enemy destroyed

The first of the day is a petite Black woman with hair artfully braided and swept up into a high bun. She rushes in the front door frantically before collapsing in a heap in his favorite armchair.He offers the best smile he can, opens the window to let the breeze, thick with Georgia peaches, and rubs her back while she weeps. She tells him that she was from Kenya. She tells him that she was brilliant, that she wanted to be a teacher. She asks how this could have happened. 

The second of the day is an old man from Washington state. His skin was thin and papery, and his clothes hung loosely on his frame. He shuffled through the little house, leaning heavily on an ornate oak cane. He observed every picture on the wall and every book laying on the kitchen table before plopping himself down heavily onto the paisley couch in the sitting room. His first question was where his wife had gone. It was also his last, seeing as he repeated exactly thirteen times before being ushered out the back door.

Over the afternoon, as the sun lazed in the sky, there was a sudden influx of people clamoring to get in his front door. There had been a mother of three from Venezuela still holding her car keys in her left hand. There had been an engineering student from Scotland with a heavy accent and a bit of lisp. There had been a business woman from Tokyo and a surfer from Australia who began a little too enamored with one another on that paisley couch over a glass over poorly made lemonade. Two little boys wandered through the house and out the door as all eyes divert from them. There had been a young black man from Atlanta still a little shocked that this could have happened to him. The final one had been a nun from Sweden that mumbled the Lord’s Prayer as she hurried out the back.

The last of the day arrived long after the afternoon’s last stragglers were ushered out. He was a young man, a boy really, with a eyes as blue as blue can be and a smile that outshone the rising moon. He bound around the little house with an unbridled enthusiasm before finally extending his hand. 

“I’m Jim.” His voice is baritone and clear with a slight hint of a Midwestern accent.

“Leonard.” 

He, Leonard, watched intently as the boy, Jim now, returned to a picture to a young girl with a gap tooth smile and a pink bow, Leonard’s only child, a daughter. He studied the picture carefully before setting it back on its place on the mantle. He then moved to the window. He remained for a long time as if he is absorbing the memory, storing it somewhere else. 

“Where am I?” He asked softly, all former enthusiasm drained out of his face, as he stared at the moon now hanging as fully in the sky.

Leonard collapsed on the couch. He allowed himself a small private grin. He must admit he gets a little kick out of all this. Maybe that’s why he got saddled with this Godforsaken job to begin with.

“You’re dead,” he drawled careful to keep his voice even and deep. 

The kid does not scream. He does not weep. He doesn’t even move. He just keeps his eyes fixed on the moon and mutters a simple “oh”. 

“I figured,” mumbled Jim as he moved from the window to uncomfortably close to Leonard on the couch. He collapses heavily onto the old thing which creaks under their combined weight as if the whole world had suddenly come crashing down.. “I knew I was going to die. I knew I was going to die since the Tuesday after I turned sixteen. Cancer can do that to people, you know. It waits and waits, and when you think you beat it, it makes it obvious that you can’t. I was rushed to the hospital last night.” 

Jim’s voice became a little thicker, goes a little. His hand found his knee and rubbed it nervously. “I was holding my brother’s hand. I was holding Adam’s hand, and then all of a sudden... nothing.There was nothing but black, and when I woke up, I was on your front porch. I guess-.” He looked to the floor, sighing softly. “I guess I didn’t make it. ” 

He looked away, to the window once again as if the stars could reverse his harsh face. Then his entire face lights up. It was like a switch had been flipped. 

“So if cancer caught up to me and I’m dead, what happened to you? Are you dead? Are you an angel? Are you God?” Jim is suddenly bright and cheerful and so painfully young again. If even cancer, even death, could not extinguish him.

It was Leonard’s turn for his face to fall. He mumbled something incoherently. The drawl a bit more pronounced and the rasp a bit harsher as the words pass his lips. His eyes stay dead ahead. Jim still looks at him expectantly. 

“I killed myself,” he grunted if only to appease Jim. “I was a doctor. I had a kid and a wife. I killed myself. I killed myself and got saddled with this job.” 

He waves his hands around, gesturing to the little house still thick with the smell of peaches. “Welcome to Purgatory. This used to be my house in Georgia. Now it’s the last stop between you in the Big Guy who is, by the way, just out the back door. You should head out of it. Night’s already here. Believe it or not, He’s kind of busy. Souls to judge and all that jazz, you know” 

Leonard rises. Jim does not. He just chuckles and remains firmly seated. 

“Listen, kid,” Leonard's pleaded, his voice tired and blunt. “It’s eight at night. You got to go. Don’t worry about that Heaven or Hell think. I’m sure you didn’t kill nobody so no worries. I have a full day tomorrow. 105 per minute you know.”  
Jim doesn’t move.

“I want to stay.”

“Why?” The word tumbled out of Leonard’s mouth. He looked absolutely baffled. He was absolutely baffled. Why would anyone wish to live like this? Stuck in limbo forever, not moving on or heading back. Just stuck in this little house forever and ever, watching thousands of people come in and out of your life.

Jim’s eyes flickered to the picture on the mantle. Warm little eyes stare back at him. 

“You-” Jim stutters. “You, uh, you seem lonely.” 

Before Leonard can respond, Jim is off to the kitchen shuffling through the fridge. Rather than follow him, tell him that he has to leave, George does not move. He just looked at the kid humming and microwaving a few pieces of fried chicken. He looked and longed He longed for someone. This kid might not be it, but he is a start.

Besides, there are worse ways to spend eternity.


End file.
